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The Way Up
“Oh, hey Doc … ya missed all the fun.” Vas snickered “Oh … ow… ow” He winced as he tried to staunch the bleeding with a sleeve. Fun, indeed. The boy, Vas, was positively cheerful, despite his nose being mooshed to tartar. All about lay gang members, either unconscious or groaning as they took to the sullen wakefulness of the beaten. “And that they shall be, repeatedly, when news of this makes it back to their chief,” he thought. Dorian smirked as he holstered his pistol. “A sense of timing,” he chuckled to the teenager, “is a gift.” >Tag Vas The cargo bay was, to put it gently, calamitous. Fortunately, it appeared that the chest which contained his belongings had survived the skirmish. As the bloodied Vas set to work lifting another man from the deck, Adler caught sight of the captain..on his feet, favoring wounds of his own. By rights it looked like their doctor would have her hands… “Greetings Dr. Dorian.” Jacy waved her crowbar at the dentist by way of friendly salute. As the woman deftly flipped her weapon about, he offered a half wave as darker questions presented themselves. “What’d she take?” the dentist pondered of this sudden change in her demeanor and activity. “How long will I have to delay?” He couldn’t believe that the doctor, mindful of the oral surgery that was supposed to commence in near time, would be so thoughtless as to offer up medication that might work odds against his own anesthetic. These notions were put aside at the approach of the captain…whoever he was. "Doc...I’m going to have to ask you to join us for the time being, we’ll make it worth your while, but my deck hand needs fixin’ and we need to get leaving’." “Dorian Adler,” he responded, offering his hand. “I’m aboard your boat, Captain. I’ll go where she goes.” >Tag Keller Their conversation was interrupted by more arrivals…a stern looking woman, military in her bearing…as she exchanged words with the captain, Dorian fostered an uneasy sense that she could be right at home in Alliance purple. He held his tongue, deciding instead that wherever this boat was headed, he’d have plenty of time to identify the worrisome folk on the crew. In her company was a giant of a man. The behemoth was sparing in his talk, yet direct about his expectations. His no nonsense ways might be the tells of a life spent on the outer rim. His size would certainly set the tone for any dealings the captain might spool them into, of that Dorian was sure. And then, Jacy. “Gentlemen, while I have you all here I’d like to make a request. I’d prefer to make it a demand, but I suspect the Captain’s generosity will not extend that far. Once the Doc has put me under, please don’t leave me alone with that blonde medic. I don’t trust her and I don’t want her anywhere near my mouth for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. I would also like to share a few words with Dorian in private before we begin." Jacy looked to the Captain, "That is still the plan?" “Always good practice to draw the battle lines, just as we’re all hightailing for the black,” Dorian thought. Around them, the boat shuddered and roared with the power of her upthrust through clawing air. That turbulence, and the presence of a drug which turned young Jacy into a talkative, crowbar wielding warrior woman, served as two pretty obvious detriments to the delicacies of even pricking her with a syringe, for the time being. That, plus the line of blunt trauma injuries he conjured must be waiting outside the “blonde medic’s” treatment room. She wanted a word in private. No harm, in that, he supposed. Whether it was more distrusting blather or perhaps some entreaty to hold his mum regarding the markings inside her lower lip, Dorian had little care. She did mention money, and strangely enough, he could always use a bit of that. Of course, the captain was of a mind to compensate as well. The man drank, so there was obviously a stock aboard. This little “run and hide” into the black might just work out.